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halloweenfor · 5 years ago

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70's Costumes - Gogo Gal Costume

Theme Halloween Costumes

Disco Costumes

Elevated EnergyIn the sixties, rock-and-roll was roaring full throttle onto the dance club scene. If we want to speak in understated terms, there was a lot of energy knocking around during the British invasion. There were so many people heading out to the club to dance to these brand new beats that there was hardly any space for the disc jockey. In fact, one club owner solved this problem by building a plastic elevated platform for the female DJ to sling beats in peace. When she started dancing to her own records one night, the crowd went even more wild than usual. The club owner realized he needed more dancers to amp up the crowd and built more “cages’. Thus that iconic image of the elevated go-go dancer was born! Details & DesignOur designers love the mod, bright styles of the late sixties! That’s why you’re sure to notice a unique quality in our Made by Us Gogo Gal costume. The sleek racerback zips up the back to make this ensemble structured and fitted. It’s super easy to dance the night away in the A-line skirt. With bright colors and wild rings accenting the waist, you’re going to look right at home shimmying in a 1960’s discotheque!Living Up To the HypeWant to amp up the party people around you? Then you’ll have to head out in complete gogo girl style! Perfect for sixties and disco-themed parties as well as a fun Halloween costume, this dress will always stand out from the masses. Finish this look off with tall, white go-go boots, big sixties style hair, and an attitude that begs the DJ to keep spinning those tunes until the sun comes up! Because if there’s one thing that makes a gogo girl good at what she does, it’s the ability to keep that energy amped all night long!

See Details & Get More Deals at: Best Halloween Costumes 2019 :: Shop

#DJArray

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ulfwolf · 5 years ago

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Marie

I was working as a computer operator in Stockholm, and had done so for a couple of years at this point. This, by the way, was at a time (1968) when 256K RAM took up pretty much the entire floor of a medium-sized office building (true statement) and when Bull and General Electric were co-marketing a mammoth mainframe called Bull/GE 301 where the operator’s console, instead of today’s keyboards and screens, comprised several rows of eight pushable, rectangular buttons, each row a byte, each button—which lit up when pressed—a bit.

By pressing the right buttons we’d write numbers (usually memory addresses) or letters in binary form and so talk directly with the computer’s memory a few numbers or letters at time to tell it what to do, say read a magnetic tape to boot a program, or begin reading the punch cards from the punch card reader. Once we got good at doing this, and after a couple of years I could do it in my sleep, watching us speak through these buttons, which as I said, lit up when pressed, was like watching wizards at play (another true statement).

That said (as an aside, really), by now I had grown a little weary of our fair capital city, so when the opportunity arose to move (still with the same company) to another computer center in a smaller town (Linköping) a few hours’ drive south of Stockholm, I jumped at the chance.

Why? though. It bears asking, and I’m certainly asking it now. After all, I had my own apartment in Stockholm, and Stockholm was the largest city in Sweden—if something worthwhile was happening in Sweden, it was happening there. Also, I was fairly well paid (though always broke).

Truth be told, one of Linköping’s truly attractive aspects (for me) was that the town boasted a considerable surplus of girls/women along with a commensurate (sizeable) shortage of boys/men. This, for an on-the-go, nineteen-year-old, testosterone-driven hippie boy, was more than just inviting: it was a no-brainer.

So, I said yup, sign me up, and sub-let my apartment to a friend named Joakim (amazing that I remembered that), and headed south for new, fresh, fecund waters.

As it happened, the first Saturday night in my new home town found me in Linköping’s pretty much one and only discotheque—which was what the music slash dance clubs in Sweden were called before disco music was even invented, this is still 1968 after all. And in that club, dancing with her friend Monica, was the lithe and very beautiful Marie.

I was not really too keen on dancing, to be honest, but a guy I had met just hours before nudged me and said he had a crush on Monica and would like to ask her to dance with him so I had to ask Marie (since they were dancing together); he pointed: Marie was the slightly shorter girl with darker hair. Did I have to? Yes, indeed, I had to, he said, and so I did.

A day, perhaps two later, I was convinced that I had met the girl of my dreams. Girl-rich Linköping had indeed come through and in a very big way.

She became my world. Yes, I know that’s a cliché if there ever was one, but nonetheless true. Thoughts of her took up, easily, ninety percent of my awareness-capacity. I wrote poems about and for her, talked about her (incessantly and much to their chagrin, actually) to my work pals, couldn’t wait to see her again, the whole nine yards (to press another worn-to-shreds cliché into service).

Looking back, though, with my a-little-stunned fifty-one years later perspective: what on earth happened there?

For in hindsight, we were not all that compatible, to be honest. I was a dreamer and a poet and a bit of a technological wiz—someone once quipped that I had both sides of my brain in full swing, very unusual, apparently; she was, if anything, a dancer. Loved, loved, loved to dance. She had the body for it, had the moves, and liked to display them both.

Still we fell very, very much in love—in temporary-insanity caliber love. We could, and would sit for minutes at a stretch gazing into one another’s eyes, just smiling and sighing and melting and loving, loving, loving.

Yes, the physical lovemaking was wonderful, too, of course, but not at all the main course so to speak. We lived in a magical castle. She was my princess and I was her prince. We really believed and lived that truth.

In that frame of mind nothing is wrong. Nothing she does seems wrong to me, on the contrary, she is perfection and proves it constantly, by breathing for example; and nothing I do could possibly strike her as wrong. This was cloud walking, pure and simple and magical.

Now, part of this story is that before I met Marie, I had already decided to move to France to become a poet; had already bought a one-way bus fare from Stockholm to Paris, all set to go come mid-June (as I recall).

She, on the other hand, had, also before we met, already decided to go to London with her friend Monica come early June. They were to work as cleaning maids during the day at some hotel or other (while dancing the nights away, literally).

My plan was to bus it to Paris and from there journey to Nice north of which was a little village called St. André where I could buy a cottage for a thousand dollars or so (so André, a French cook/friend in Stockholm had told me) and where I could settle in and be a poet.

Did I have the money (a) to travel to Nice, (b) to buy a cottage, and (c) to live on while I learned French (which I had pretty much flunked in school) and wrote my French poems? The answer to (a) through (c) above: categorically “no.” Did that bother me? Categorically not in the least. Things would work out, solve themselves, they always did.

My French plans and her London dittos did cast shadows on our bliss from time to time, more frequently as the spring moved along and June grew closer, so in May we decided—to cement our intentions to love each other forever—to marry once she returned from London and I from France. The exact when of this still up in the air. But we exchange rings, drank a little champagne, kissed and embraced in the sunlit, spring-fragrant grass as an engaged couple.

Marie left for London one early, brilliantly clear June morning; I was to leave for Paris a week or so later.

We were still (at least I was) in love beyond repair.

Then the 1968 Paris student revolts shook France to the point where my bus company cancelled the trip to Paris and refunded my ticket.

So now I’m stuck in Linköping while Marie is in London (no student riots there), having, I was sure, the time of her life.

The forlorn boy asks: What to do, what to do?

The forlorn boy has no real answer to that question.

As another aside, word had spread around town that Marie and I were engaged and I discovered that this feat—having landed the very pretty and much sought after Marie—had bought me some notoriety and I was even stopped by a few guys on the street who wanted to congratulate me, shake my hand and all that. Big price, my Marie. Well done, way to go, et cetera.

While this stroked and stoked my ego no end, it went not even the tiniest way toward answering my question: what now?

Poet dreams in jeopardy, Marie in London, jobless me alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Linköping was too depressing to remain in alone.

Time to move on then.

http://wolfstuff.com/aod-intro

#Memoir #Art of Dying #1968 #French Poet #Young Hippie Dreamer

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skincare-us-blog · 7 years ago

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Claudia Schiffer

New Post has been published on http://skincareee.com/claudia-schiffer/

Claudia Schiffer

“I grew up in a small town in Germany near the Rhine River. I was quite shy in school and then one evening, I went to a discotheque in Dusseldorf. An agent was there when I was dancing to this song and he approached me and said, ‘You should be a model.’ And it kind of went off like that. I was quite a good dancer. [Laughs]

I never thought I could be a model, so when he stopped me in the nightclub, I thought it was by mistake. I told him if he was serious, he should talk to my parents. I never thought he’d actually give my parents a call. And he did call. My father was a lawyer, so he drew up a tight contract and said, ‘We’ll give it a go for one year, and at least you’ll come back speaking fluent French.’ At any moment, I thought they were going to realize that they made a mistake and send me back. I thought everyone in my school would confuse it with glamour modeling and so I didn’t tell anyone I was going to Paris. I would say that I was sick and go to Paris to do these one-day shoots while I was still in school. When I finally left for good, I said I was going to work for Chanel even though I didn’t have a contract there yet. Eventually that became the truth—and thank God, because I don’t like lying.

CAREER The first year, I got really lucky early on and started working with Elle magazine, which sent me around the world on all these different trips with Gilles Bensimon and Hans Feurer. Then I met Karl Lagerfeld and he asked me to join his show. That was around the time when runway models were different than fashion shoot models. And particularly at Chanel, everyone was quite like Coco Chanel. Slightly masculine, dark hair, and the models walked down runway in a very elegant way. I was so shy and I thought there was no way I could do that. Karl told me that all he wanted me to do was walk down the runway like I would normally walk down the street…‘Do it however you want. Be however you are. Don’t worry.’ Suddenly now there was a blonde girl walking down the runway, and she didn’t know how to walk and everyone was wondering what the hell was going on! [Laughs] Then Gianni Versace started doing spectacles instead of fashion shows. There was the lighting, the music change, a really high podium—people would have bought tickets to see a show like this. You would be walking down the runway to Prince and Prince would be sitting in the front row.

Immediately after I started working with Ellen von Unwerth, people started making the Brigitte Bardot comparisons. In her photography, Linda Evangelista was Sophia Loren, Milla Jovovich was Marilyn Monroe, and then I was Brigitte Bardot. A lot of photoshoots looked like that, it was the dark-eyed ‘60s makeup and the backcombed hair. She sent the pictures to Paul Marciano and said, ‘You should meet this girl.’ The Guess Jeans campaign followed, and that created a whole other wave of interest in fashion. After the Guess campaign was the first time anyone had recognized me.

When I started modeling, they said by age 30, my career would be over. But when I was 40, I was literally doing so many things—the boundaries kept changing. So you have your period where you’re trying to get to the top and then it becomes a question of, ‘How do you create longevity?’ Once I reached that, I decided that I only now want to do projects that I’m really excited about. Back then in the ‘90s in particular, I’d go from shoot to shoot and take it as just another job. When you look back, you realize how great these photographers are, even more so. I made a book of all those shoots with Rizzoli—it started from a bunch of Pinterest boards actually. Then we had to find the negatives because we didn’t have digital back then. There were actually a few they couldn’t find.

I never wanted to do anything outside of fashion and beauty because it was the family I lived in and breathed every single day. I didn’t really know anything else. All I wanted to do was succeed and work with the best people in all categories, from hair to makeup and styling. Designing was just a natural step. I learned a lot from designers, the fittings, the photographers and how they created things and how they got their inspiration to create the final result. I had my own ideas over the years and let out some of my creativity into a product.

MAKEUP Without sounding arrogant, I do know a lot about beauty products. If you imagine someone today learning something from a YouTube video, I’ve lived 30 years looking in a mirror. By that, you learn all the tricks—what works, what doesn’t, what’s not so good with natural light, all of those details. For that, I don’t need anyone’s advice. There’s not one thing I use all the time, except for my own line because everything [in it] was something I wanted. And I’ll send it back with feedback if necessary.

As I leave the house, I always put on mascara and use an eyelash curler. I love long eyelashes, so my mascara is lengthening and thickening. Artdeco Luxurious Volume Mascara works for that—I put it on top and bottom. Then I use a bit of an Illuminator and lip balm. I like to shape my brows with a brow pen because you can really correct where you need to and make the shape how you want it. I like to also use a really soft crayon and a clear gel. I got them waxed by this really famous person who used to wax everyone’s brows in the ‘90s, I forget the name. But when I got them done, I looked in the mirror and said, ‘That’s not me.’ Now I just leave them how they are.

I love a smoky eye because it makes your eye color pop. Not like Jean Shrimpton, more like Jane Birkin in the ‘60s. Those sort of effortless pictures where you just quickly smudge it around. It’s not really perfect, but it’s really dark. You start first with the mascara, and then the liner, and then just work in the powders around it. I definitely have to use a brush. My favorite shades for lips are different peaches and apricots from Nars and MAC. I just like a more natural look. On the cheeks, I like a fresh pink because it makes me look like I’ve just run around the block. And for contour, I like to use a soft brown powder. I apply it on high cheekbones and then I’ll use something light brown that’s sort of applied like you went on holiday and tanned really fast above your eyes, or the corner of your forehead and the top of your nose. When you do it together with a blush, it makes it look like you’re fresh and stepped out of the natural sun.

Also, I love having red nails on my toes and my hands all the time. It’s like having rings on or sunglasses—it’s just part of my look. In my line, my favorites are Popsicle and Kingsman.

HAIR This isn’t my natural color—it used to be my natural color! [Laughs] I used to have this hair color when I was growing up, and then I turned 17 it and got dark and I had to do highlights. Then it got even darker, so now, it’s really dark blonde. Anyone can dye it for me—I work with Schwarzkopf to develop the color so I have it on my own. I just need someone to apply it to the roots.

My hair goes through different stages because of the color. When I put in my conditioner, I comb it in from the bottom-up to avoid breakage. I also cut it regularly to keep it healthy. But I’ve never had a huge hair change because if I did, I’d never work. My contracts literally said, ‘You are not allowed to cut your hair.’ [Laughs] I did a Steven Meisel shoot where I was a brunette with a short hair, but that was a wig.

I do my hair with tongs. My favorite way to have my hair styled is with a soft wave, but if I do it myself, it’s straight. I just use a literal hairbrush and a blowdryer to go in and smooth it all out. I do like the brushes that have soft bristles that go in between. Mason Pearson brushes are too soft and wouldn’t get all my knots out—I need one that’s slightly harder. Harry Josh has a great line of hairdryers that I love. They also work really well.

SKINCARE In the morning, I just shower and wash my face with water. And then I moisturize a lot. When I apply anything, I make sure to massage my face to get the blood moving. Bamford is what I use for the basics—I do the serum, then oil, then cream. In the morning, it helps seal everything in and calm everything down. They also make a cleansing and clearing mask that I like to use when I take an Epsom salt bath. Sisley also makes some creams that are really hydrating—their Black Rose Cream in particular. At night when I’m really tired I do make an exception to not take off my makeup. I’ll just do it in the morning. Being a mom didn’t change my approach to beauty, the only thing it made me do was do it faster. [Laughs] There’s not time to do anything when you’re taking care of your kids.”

Claudia Schiffer photographed by Tom Newton in New York on October 19, 2017. Claudia wears an Isabel Marant sweater and Ulla Johnson jeans.

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